Naught as Queer as Ford
by Concupiscence66
Summary: Ford is trapped on Earth where they think digital watches and being strictly heterosexual are pretty neat ideas.


Ford's carpet suddenly grew an inch taller, causing him to trip as he crossed the room to answer the door.

He briefly wondered if the carpet was actually a Solargite. It had been centuries since the Solargites had been hunted for sport, their lifeless bodies used to decorate the floors and walls of decadent taverns, but Earth was a very backwards place. Ford had been to a (not very decadent) tavern in Guilford that boasted a severed moose head on the wall. The moose wore a party hat and lei and it broke Ford's heart to see the creature. It looked like he'd been having a real froody time before he was decapitated.

Ford had tears in his eyes by the time he opened the door and flung himself in Arthur's arms.

"There, there, Ford. I see you started early tonight."

As per usual, Arthur looked uncomfortable and judgmental. How could Ford possibly explain the sadness of the universe to a man who had never been more than a 100 miles from the hospital where he was born?

"I made a Manhattan while I was waiting for you to show up. You were supposed to be here..." Ford looked at his digital watch, "Well, I guess you're fifteen minutes early. I was feeling fine until my carpet tripped me but I can't be mad at it. Not after what our people did to his ancestors."

Arthur gave Ford a complacent smile, picked up Ford's Manhattan and asked, "Ford, did you just pour whiskey into a jar of maraschino cherries and call it a Manhattan?"

Ford puffed his chest out proudly, "I was out of vermouth and clean glasses. Pretty clever, eh? That's the kind of innovation you need when you're a penniless hitchhiker trying to see the wonders of the galaxy for the price of a cup of tea."

Arthur didn't look impressed but he had that funny crinkly look to his eyes that Ford enjoyed so he gave the ape-descendant another effusive hug.

Arthur sighed, "So, it's going to be one of those nights? Let's go find you some Uni students to harass."

Ford stuck his head out the window as Arthur drove. Dogs had some damn good ideas. The night sky was clear and full of stars that were becoming increasingly blurry.

"Oh, dear. Are you crying, Ford? You don't usually start with the water works until the third round."

Like many middle class Englishmen, Arthur considered emotions to be for the French. A few years ago Ford had spent a summer hitchhiking through France and had mainly observed disdain and ennui. He wasn't sure those were even technically emotions.

"Are disdain and ennui classified as emotions?" he asked, yelling over the roaring wind.

"Why are you yelling? The car is stopped."

"Answer the question, my good man," Ford could still feel the wind on his face but he had to admit, they did seem to be sitting still.

"No, we're not talking about emotions or the French tonight. Let's just get a couple of pints and chat with pretty girls. I've had a long week."

"Mate, buy me a drink and I will tell you all about the Big Bang and how the universe began. By one for my friend, here, and I'll tell you about the second Big Bang which involved my semi-cousin, a hooker named Eccentrica Gallumbits, and over one THOUSAND microscopic energy beings called Balhallies..."

Arthur looked disapproving but he drank his free gin and tonic while Ford explained the origin of the universe to a first year at Cambridge. Ford couldn't remember all the sciencey bits as he was on his fifth gin and tonic, so he threw in a few things he'd read on Snapple caps. He doubted the student was really listening anyway, his hand had been roaming over Ford's thigh for the past ten minutes. A few drinks earlier, Ford would have been intrigued but, in his current state of intoxication, he was just dizzy. He leaned on Arthur who was like a tweed-covered oak tree dipped in moderately priced cologne. The lights of the bar, as filtered through five gin and tonics and a "Manhattan", gave the student a hazy halo.

Arthur lips brushed Ford's ear as he whispered, "I think you've had enough, mate."

Even five drinks in, Ford was intrigued (intrigued here being used as a euphemism for semi-erect) by the unexpected intimacy.

Mr. Cambridge noticed Ford's semi-intrigue and suggested they, "Take this party to my place, my flatmate's on holiday. You can bring your mate, if you're keen."

Ford woke up the way he normally did: on his feet, towel in hand and ready to fight.

"Why did you have a towel tucked in your pants? Never mind," Arthur turned back to his crossword, "I don't want to know."

Ford looked around, he was in Arthur's house. Odd. Ford normally wasn't allowed in Arthur's house while "under the influence". He hadn't been in this house in over four years.

"What in the name of Zarquon is going on?"

"Who's Zarquon?" Arthur asked from his barcalounger without looking up from his puzzle.

"Never mind all that, why am I here? Why am I not drinking? Where is that keen young fellow with a smattering of brains and his father's credit card?"

That made Arthur look up, his face charmingly stern. Arthur's body was thirty but he had the soul of a middle aged bank manager.

"Your 'keen friend' invited us to his place for a threesome."

"And why aren't we there? Did you bring him here?" Ford looked for signs of a young man with more money than brains but found none.

"He was a man, Ford! I know you have trouble identifying gender once you've had a few drinks..."

"Come now, Arthur, you went to public school. You aren't that sheltered. I've read Stephen Fry's autobiography!"

Arthur was giving him a queer look. Ford had realized early on that a fun-loving boozer could get away with a lot of eccentricity, such as being named after a car, on planet Earth but it was essential to toe the line when it came to sexual mores. He could tell his stories about Eccentrica Gallumbits and be treated with condescending patience but once he started talking about the fortnight he spent with Evvo The Really Well-hung Demi-god II, he was regarded with suspicion. Being heterosexual was expected, being homosexual was tolerated, being bisexual was treated with skepticism and being utterly indifferent to the sex of your partner was just straight out of the question. Having multiple partners or spouses at one time was restricted to a few small societies and a large amount of pornography.

Throughout the galaxy, there are many planets where polyarmous love is the norm and pair-bonding is considered strange and icky. Ford had attended the wedding for planet Polly-Am when all 3 trillion inhabitants had joined together in wedded bliss. Sadly, the marriage lasted little more than an Earth year. The divorce was messy and everyone in the galaxy was expected to take a side. Ford had chosen to be on Xxy's side as he/she'd often let Ford crash at his/her flat when he was hitchhiking through. Since then Ford couldn't seem to go anywhere (other than hicksville Earth) without having to raise his nose in haughty derision at one of the 3 trillion non-Xxy Polly-Amies.

"Ford, I know you spent a lot of time in America but in the civilized world we're a little more picky about our sexual partners. You can't go around having threesomes with strange men in bars."

"He wasn't that strange."

"I don't mean strange as in queer, I mean strange as in unknown."

"And when you said queer just now...?"

"I meant queer as in odd, not as a reference to his sexual preference."

"You crazy humans and your sex euphemisms."

Arthur ignored the clear reference to Ford being an alien and continued to focus on Ford's failure to abide by conventional sexual mores. Ford balled his towel up under his neck and fell asleep on the sofa as Arthur droned on.

"And I'll tell you another thing, I'm not leaving my house. They can bloody well knock it down with me inside!" Arthur yelled for the fifth time that night.

"That's not _another_ thing," Ford yelled back, "That's the _same_ thing! You keep saying the same thing, mate, and you're starting to put people off!"

Arthur slumped down in his seat, "But it's not fair. I don't want them to knock my house down. All my things are in there."

Ford threw a friendly arm around his utterly pissed companion. Many of Arthur's friends had come to the pub to commiserate with the soon-to-be-homeless fellow but they had all left an hour ago after Arthur's third declaration that he would not abandon his house. Only Ford remained to offer support. Arthur had, on many occasions, accused Ford of not being supportive but for the past hour, he'd had been the only thing separating Arthur's face from the barroom floor. When he pointed the fact out to Arthur, his friend was less than apologetic.

"I wasn't talking about physically supporting me! I want you to be supportive and tell me my career is just beginning and not eternally stalled or that eventually I'll find the right girl..."

"You want me to lie? Understood."

"No! You're supposed to mean it or at least _pretend_ to mean it."

"But your job is shit and every woman you date is horrible."

"They aren't _horrible_," Arthur whined, resting his head on Ford's shoulder.

"Perhaps not in and of themselves but they're horrible for you. You have this idea in your head that you want to settle down and have kids and tend your lawn but you're not that guy! You're more of a... Are you asleep?"

Ford pulled some money from Arthur's wallet to cover the tab and dragged (supportively) the semi-conscious and considerably taller man down the road to his soon-to-be-destroyed house.

It was Arthur that made the first move. Ford had been planning on dropping Arthur off on his bed and heading back to the pub for last call but instead, he found himself being pulled into what could only be called a 'heated embrace'. Arthur was running his hands over Ford's backside and pressing their groins together, murmuring in a low and sexy voice, "Don't tell anyone about this. I don't want everyone at the pub knowing."

"I'll be the soul of discretion," Ford promised as he unbuttoned his pants. Arthur was all thumbs and apologies leaving most of the work to Ford who, luckily for them both, was something of an expert in the related fields of getting naked and of removing the clothing of others. Betelgeusean schools are much more thorough in their sex education than those on Earth and Ford considered himself a life long student. Any attempt to move Arthur into a position other than flat on his back resulted in hysterical pleas to "make the room stop spinning!"

Ford wasn't about to complain. In his current state, Arthur could only get in the way. In the more fashionable arms of the galaxy, there was no advantage to 'clean living'. Ford had his organs replaced yearly as part of his Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy medical benefits package. There's nothing he couldn't do while three sheets to the wind.

Arthur was moaning and writhing in a pleasant manner as Ford kissed his neck. Ford had often imagined kissing Arthur and making him moan in pleasure but inevitably Arthur would destroy the mood by nattering on about lawn care or the importance of using a coaster and the moment would pass. Arthur wasn't always stodgy but that side of him came out at the worst possible moments. Just when times were getting good and laddish, Arthur would turn into his mother and send everyone home before it was even curfew.

Ford loved the feeling of human skin. It was softer and more delicate than that of a Betelguesean, Betelguite? person from Betelguese. He could spend hours running his fingers along Arthur's ribs and be a happy man.

Arthur, meanwhile, was frantically grinding his erection into Ford's hip and swearing like a sailor.

"Language, Arthur! You're ruining to romance of the moment," Ford chastised as he ran his fingers through Arthur's chocolate brown hair. The hair was soft and shiny and smelled like anit-dandruff shampoo. Ford thought it was sexy.

"Well, I'd hate to destroy the romance of two drunken men groping each other."

Ford smiled at Arthur, happy they were on the same page, "This is a very special moment in our friendship. I want to savor every minute of it."

"I was being sarcastic, Ford! This," Arthur waved his hand between them, "is NOT romantic. This is a drunken mistake that we'll never discuss again."

"Oh. Well, then, let's get to the good bits!"

Ford scooted down Arthur's body and took the human's cock in his mouth. Humans had as many erogenous zones as most species in the galaxy, but they tended to focus almost exclusively on their genitalia. The first time he'd tried to bring a woman to orgasm but licking her fingers, she's called him a "sex maniac" before calling him a cab.

Arthur was swearing again but with less and less creativity. He'd been reduced to a stream of 'fuck, fucking fuckity fuck's as he gripped Ford's hair hard enough to hurt. Ford tried to hold Arthur's twitching hips in place as he worked the shaft with his lips and tongue. The normally polite Arthur was thrusting into Ford's mouth and while he had no issues with his gag reflex (not after two weeks with Evvo) he did need to breathe once in a while. He tried mouthing Arthur's balls but his companion only became more demanding.

Over the course of their nine years friendship, Ford had learned a thing or two about Arthur. When his companion became obsessed with something, say buying crisps or having an orgasm, the only way to distract him from his current obsession was to do something absolutely crazy and unexpected like catching a squirrel bare handed or reading _The Daily Mirror_.

Ford moved his mouth a bit lower.

"'tstop."

After his outburst, Arthur gave up on words and simply mewled like an especially promiscous cat in heat. Ford stroked himself lightly as he breeched Arthur with his tongue. This action, like almost everything in his sexual repetoire, was taboo on Earth. Ford had been, very briefly, to more prudish planets than Earth. The entire population of Reguli V wore cones around their necks to prevent themselves from accidentally seeing their own naughty bits. Ford had been less disturbed by the general priggishness than by the apalling state of their bathrooms. The cones made aim impossible.

Ford used Arthur's distraction to return to his lazy exploration of Arthur's skin from his soft belly, to his ticklish thighs, to his rough (and also ticklish) feet. The human body was truly a fuckable wonder.

"Okay, Ford," Arthur was talking again. He thrust his tongue deeper and stroked Arthur's cock, hoping to lull him back into a daze.

"Okay, Ford!" Arthur repeated in a manner that indicated he expected Ford to understand his statement, "Now would be good."

"Now would be good for what?"

"Don't be coy, Ford. This isn't the time," Arthur tried Ford up by the arms but soon collapsed on his back complaining, "I hate this spinning house! I'm glad it's being knocked down. A house should stay still."

Coy was not part of Ford's sexual repertoire so he asked again.

"A good time for what?"

Arthur suddenly turned shy and he stared at the ceiling as he said, "You know, time for _it_. Don't make me say it."

"Oh!" Ford suddenly understood, "You mean fucking!"

Arthur shot him a prudish look.

"Arthur, you just used every variation of the word fuck there is while I licked and sucked..."

"Can we please move to the part where we put the word in question into action?" Arthur was snappish but there was no questioning the sincerity of his desire. His erection was twitching as though Eccentrica Gallumbits had just walked into the room.

It was probably best that Arthur remained in his prone position so Ford hoisted the man's legs over his shoulders and rubbed his pre-cum around the head of his penis and Arthur's entrance. He had no need of prophylactics (they could not share diseases and Earthmen can't get pregnant) or additional lubricant (he could use his pre-ejaculate to fix a squeaky door) but he felt suddenly concerned that Arthur was not suggesting precautions.

"I don't have any communicable diseases," Ford offered.

Arthur nodded, "Good. Me neither."

He lined himself up with Arthur's entrance. Tomorrow he would lecture his friend on trusting randy boozers who say they are disease free, tonight he had more important things to worry about.

Like how he was going to convince Arthur to let him fuck him every night for the rest of his miserable exile on Earth.

Ford had enjoyed casual sex (or as it was known on his planet, sex) with many Earth partners but he felt different as he slowly slid his length into Arthur. His friend was looking at him with a kind of amazement. When Arthur winced in pain, Ford's heart (and hips) stopped. When Arthur relaxed and beckoned Ford to continue, he went at it like a mad man. He hadn't really gotten a hold on the Earth concept of love (he'd been told his love of alcohol wasn't 'real love') but his sudden desire to spend the rest of his life thrusting inside Arthur while his friend gazed at him with fathomless dark eyes felt like one of those "feelings" Earthers were always on about.

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"You are my favorite Earthling and currently my best mate. As my other mates have abandoned me to my fate in this hell hole I can probably say with certainty that you are my best friend."

Arthur looked confused but he accepted the compliment gracefully, "Thanks, Ford. I don't know why I like you but I do. You're very weird."

Ford began thrusting harder before things got too sappy. He didn't want to start weeping like a human over a little mind-blowing sex. He knew he'd found just the right spot when Arthur growled and ripped the sheets off the bed. He kept a steady and unrelenting pace, pressing Arthur's knees into his chest to give himself better control of their movements. Ford could try to make the sex last but he'd learned from experience that Earthers lacked stamina. He'd had too many partners faint or fall asleep on him over the years to bother trying to have a really good shag. Instead, he began thrusting roughly until he felt Arthur's semen on his belly and Arthur's teeth clamping down on his shoulders. He pulled out of the awestruck human and rolled him on to his stomach before sliding back into him easily, he enjoyed some slow and easy thrusting. Arthur hummed happily as Ford stroked himself in and out of his friend's heat.

"Ford, why do you sometimes pretend to be an alien?"

He kissed Arthur's hot and sweaty back, "I am an alien. Do you think a human could last this long?"

Arthur laughed, "You're so odd."

Ford indulged himself for another half hour before coming inside his companion who happily purred the whole time. They were good together. Ford could see making this a regular part of their friendship except...

"Promise never to tell any of our friends that I let you... What we did."

"Who would believe me?"

Arthur didn't argue because he was already asleep.

Ford helped himself to Arthur's liquor cabinet and sat on the porch staring at the stars. Earth wasn't all bad. Maybe he could convince Arthur to think outside the box. Arthur had tried dating women, he'd tried dating sensible people with sensible jobs, he'd tried dating humans and he'd tried monogamy. Considering the sorry state of his love life, maybe he'd be willing to try something new.

Not bloody likely. Arthur would probably never acknowledge what had happened again. They're night of sex would be filed along with all the evience that Ford was an alien in a folder marked 'Ignore' in a file cabinet of denial.

Ford put his sub-etha radio to his ear.

The Earth was being demolished to make way for a hyperspace bypass. Tomorrow.

Zarking photons.


End file.
